Redwall: A Last Stand
by CKofRedwall
Summary: With weapons of solidity and sorcery, a vermin horde successfully captures Redwall. Now the life of Mossflower depends on the life of one beast. It's time to know the truth and fight back. First fan fic. Tips and suggestions would be excellent.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The name 'Blizzard' hasn't been mentioned for a long time here at Redwall. That's because only one generation of the dwellers here know that name. As we grow old, so does the story. However, it has come to my attention that the younger creatures of our abbey are curious. Some of them have actually met Blizzard when they were too young to remember. I am about to tell a story that will answer the question of what happened eight seasons ago. The trauma of the events of the evil Mallflag are too unforgiving for the older creatures to want to tell. Questions being slung here and there. All about the terrible and tragic events of eight seasons ago. Who is C.K. of Redwall? How was that war won? "Tell me mommy. Are you telling the truth?" There is only one version of the truth. The question: who is C.K. of Redwall is one asked all too often. Who is that mysterious writer that seems to know everything? I am C.K. of Redwall and I only know what goes around. To answer all of the questions about what happened eight seasons ago, I had to find all the answers. That's right. I didn't write the following story on my own. You and all the creatures of Redwall wrote this story. I just put it on a piece of paper. Sometimes, the next best thing to seeing these events in the flesh are seeing them in words. Prepare to go back to a fearful, heroic, and memorable time. Eight seasons ago. Prepare for an adventure that will answer all of your questions and reveal the truth. The one and only version of the truth.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Redwall. All credit goes to Brian Jacques. All characters made by me with some references to those of Brian Jacques.

Summer. A season to feel free, relaxed, and carefree. The tranquility of the singing birds, the company of your friends. You get a feeling that you are closer together than ever before. It was but a peaceful time in Mossflower woods. Free of vermin attacks and nobody posing a threat. It seemed like this will be a peaceful summer after all. There hasn't been a single attack for four seasons and who but the Guosim to celebrate?

As the summer season was closing, the Guosim (Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower) were dancing gaily and enjoying the last day of summer with a festival. Music was everywhere and there was food plenty. Rinky, one of the shrews, was tootling on a flute with the rest of his band playing various instruments. Together, they made an incredible song in perfect harmony. It was hard to resist dancing along. Rinky's friend, Log-a-Log Moosh tried not to give in to the excessive merriment, but finally gave in. He then broke into song. His song was being made up as he went along. Rinky did the same thing with his band.

"I've never been so merry before

It's been quite a while since I've danced on Mossflower's floor

This is the perfect night to feast

Do not complain! Just be glad everybeast

Never will we be bored no more

As we watch the seasons, four

With seasons to live, who can say the least?

Do not complain! Just be glad every beast.

This has been a vermin free summer

I never used my rapier, isn't that a bummer?

Good has triumphed, has evil ceased?

Do not complain! Just be glad every-"

Suddenly, the fire went out. Everybeast gasped as the clearing they were in went dark. The lazy clouds looming over head blocked out any form of light from the stars. A murmur went around as to why the fire went out so suddenly. Nobeast was standing by it and there's no breeze or rain.

"Wot do you think's 'appened?," Rinky asked Log-a-Log Moosh. "I don't know," he replied.

Though there was chatter, it seemed utterly silent. That silence took over the Guosim as it became more and more uneasy to speak. Then the silence was broken by several screams.

Over by the southern side, a horde of about three hundred vermin charged in slaying anybeast that was in the way. Log-a-Log Moosh took quick action. Drawing his shrew rapier, he charged into the crowd, slaying a rat on contact. As he fought, he watched his fellow shrews running and dying around him. He turned to see a large, ugly rat swing an axe at him. Ducking nimbly, he swung the rapier across the rat's knees. The rat gave a yell of pain before whacking the side of the shrew's head.

Going in and out of consciousness, he saw his shrews either dead, dying, running, or gone. A weasel and a ferret came in carrying in a shrew. It was Rinky. The rat approached him and placed his face near Rinky's. Then he spoke in a sly, dirty, and unwelcoming manner.

"Welcome to Mallflag's Band."

Rinky gagged at the rat's foul breath as he spoke. Then, the weasel lifted up his spear and sent the shrew sprawling on the ground. Mallflag then placed his foot onto Rinky's back. He gave him an evil smile that Rinky trembled in fear at. "Tell me, shrew. Which way is it to Redwall h'Abbey?"

Giving a squeak and an obvious tremor in his voice, Rinky replied. "I don't know. I-I-I know what 'tis, b-but I don't know where 'tis."

Mallflag's axe then swung down and struck next to his head one hair length away from his face. Mallflag enjoyed tormenting the shrew.

"Are you sure you don't know?"

Rinky nodded vigorously. "I swear, sir. I've no idea where 'tis."

Mallflag then placed the axe on the back of Rinky's neck, then swung the blade up.

"Wrong answer," he said with an evil grin.

"Wait! I know! I know! Please don't kill me! I'll tell!"

Mallflag stopped the axe just in time. He then pick up the shrew and forced him to look at his ugly face. "Then why don't you tell me?" he said with a wolfish grin.

Shuddering, the shrew said, "Head east, sir. You'll find a path. Take it south. You can't miss the abbey!"

The big rat then removed the rapier from the shrew's belt and eyed it. "Why thankee kindly," he said in a misleading tone. "Your information is of great value to us."

The shrew shook violently. "Does that mean I'm free?" He asked.

The rat then took the shrews rapier and ran him through. A brief gag noise emitted from the shrew as he died. "Aye," the rat said to the slain shrew. "Yer free alright. Free from this land and escapin' to the Dark Forest!"

With that, he and his crew laughed, being cut off by Mallflag who then yelled, "Quit that yapping! Take whatever food and weapons left behind and let's move out of here. We will attack Redwall h'Abbey after we get a good plan. Extra rations for those who can come up with te best ideas." He pointed to an ermine and the weasel and ferret that had found Rinky. "Whitehide, Longtail, Curst. Relieve those dead 'uns of their weapons. And make sure dat they're really dead. We don't want nobeast followin' us."

As the others left, Log-a-Log, who had been stunned after watching it all, gasped as the three vermin came in his direction. He held his breath as the ferret, Curst, took his rapier and started poking at him.

"'ow do you know if 'e's dead?" the ferret asked the other two.

The weasel, Longtail, put his hand on his forehead and shook his head. "I don't know! If 'e don't move, e's dead. How's dat?"

"Whitey! Can you tell 'ow dey're dead?" Curst yelled. The ermine just shrugged and continued work.

Longtail snickered. "They ought to call him Silent Stoat." Curst then broke into laughter, completely forgetting about Log-a-Log. "Dat's a good 'un. I don't get it. E's an ermine."

Longtail then laughed at Curst. "I know e's an ermine. Can't you take a joke?" He then looked at Whitehide and pulled Curst in close. He spoke to him in a harsh whisper. "Listen. We found 'im in the north many seasons ago. I have known him for more seasons than you have and e's always been white. I don't know 'bout you, and I don't know why, but I don't like 'im."

Curst was new to the horde and all this information was new to him. "Oohh! I still don't get the Silent Stoat thing, are-"

"They're the same bloody thing!" yelled Longtail. "Don't you know anything?"

Curst was about to make a reply, but Longtail dealt him a whack to the back of the head.

"We need to finish up before somebeast in the horde comes up wit' de best plan and gets extra vittles!"

The two walked away, inspecting the rest of the shrews. Log-a-Log Moosh then let out a sigh of relief and had to wait until the three were gone before moving. He had to get up slowly. He kept blacking out as he got up inch by painful inch. He knew what he had to do. He had to find the survivors of the Guosim and warn Redwall about what he saw.

**A/N: Longtail will explain why he doesn't like Whitehide in a later chapter.**

**Tips and suggestions are not only welcome, but would be appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 2

Mallflag and his horde made camp in a clearing near the path. Several tents were set up with three beasts to a tent. Mallflag, however, had the biggest tent. He needed it to have meetings in them. With him, he had his most trusted mates to discuss what to do about Redwall. Longtail, the weasel, was one of them. Tall and lean, he's been with Mallflag since the beginning. Mallflag's wife, Smithe. She and Mallflag have also been together for a long time, but only through a forced marriage. A fox named Bluddflo was present. He is the most top-notch fighter in the horde next to Mallflag. Finally, there's Marru, the stoat. She's a healer and Marru's advisor. She was just entering the tent as she then sat with the others by the fire. She spoke with a calm and carefree voice.

"None of the horde members have any idea on how to break into the abbey. The vixen, though, wishes to speak with you."

Mallflag rolled his eyes but nodded, granting permissions to let her in. Mystic, the vixen, was rather old, but was very wise. Her age had caused her to lose her sanity, but she was still useful her magical abilities. The vixen wasn't only a magician, she could see sorcery and wield it into a great power. She entered the room wearing a tattered purple dress and cloak which hid powders and potions underneath. In a cracked voice, she said, "Powerful Mallflag, I hath news for thou. That h'abbey thou seek hath a great power. One that will reshape the land and will stretch out so far that even the seas will bow down to thou."

Mallflag only wanted to conquer the abbey, but this had now sparked great interest. He nodded to the vixen to continue.

The vixen pulled out a pawful of a powder. Tossing into the fire, it grew brighter and brighter until it was impossible to look at it. She spoke as the others turned their faces.

"This be the shine of a magic sword. The sword of whom the creatures of the h'abbey respect and believe in. This be, Martin the Warrior." The fire turned back to it's normal glow as she continued. "We will need a sacrifice to unlock this power, and then all of Mossflower will be yours. Quakes, storms, and other disasters will be at your command with magic and the sword alone. However, with one life chosen to be the sacrifice, thou will have the power to burn down this peaceful forest and rebuild it in your honor!"

Bluddflo then spoke up. "Alright, but who will dis sacrifice be, eh?"

The vixen smiled. "Could be anyone thou choose. Once thou hath chosen, I will put the spell on the creature, then they must die an untimely death in order to unlock the power."

Mallflag was now thinking out loud. "We could use one of them h'abbey beasts, but then again, I've heard dey are vengeful. However, they'll already be seeking revenge for us taking their h'abbey. If I capture one, though, I can do the sacrifice quickly. But then they will-"

"Why don't we sacrifice one of our own?" Longtail then asked.

Mallflag stared at him blankly. "Sacrifice our own?"

"Yes."

"And whom did you have in mind."

Longtail grinned, "Whitehide."

Suddenly, Marru spoke up, "Certainly not." Longtail refused to rest his case. "And why not? He's one of the weakest, he's different, and nobody likes him!" Marru had been his care taker. When they had found him, he was only 2 seasons old. Marru was never too fond of Whitehide, but she was taken aback at the idea of killing one of their own members, especially one whom she had mothered for many seasons. She looked at Mallflag. "Your honor? Do you have something to say about this?"

He was thinking immensely. Then he said, "T'would be a lot easier. I never really cared for the ermine."

She stared gaping open mouthed at everybeast. Bluddflo and Smithe nodded at the idea. Panicing, the stoat stood up and headed for the entrance. "I've got to warn him," she said, her calm voice was gone.

"You shouldn't do that. I'm warning you," Mallflag said to her as she started her trip.

Yelling through her tears, she screamed out, "Whitehide! Whitehide!" As she ran outside crying, Mallflag gave a nod to Bluddflo. Bluddflo then stood up, picked up his best throwing blade, and threw the blade out the tent flap. There was a thud, an agonized scream, and then silence. The five vermin stood up and went outside where the vermin who heard the scream gathered around Marru's carcass. Whitehide pushed his way through the crowd.

"Marru? Marru? I heard you calling, then I-" Whitehide then gasped at the sight of his slain caretaker. He fell down on his knees and tried not to weep in front of the cold hearted vermin around him. Mallflag walked up to the ermine and put his paw on his shoulder. He then spoke to him as if he were his father.

"She was rebellious. She wanted to abandon the horde, blab to the h'abbey that we were going to conquer them. She wanted to take you with her. I knew they'd slay you and Murra at first sight. I did the only thing I could to prevent my horde to fall apart. Now stow them tears, you're almost too old to be considered young. Take a death like a grown beast should."

Whitehide then stood up. He stared his captain directly in the eye. "I still stick my loyalty to you, but I won't forgive you fer killin' my mothe-" he paused. "Fer killin Marru." With that, he walked away. Mallflag let out a sigh and went back into the tent with the other four.

"Well," he said. "'E can be our sacrifice. E's got nothing to lose. Nobody in the horde to seek revenge, nobody in the h'abbey to seek revenge. Nobody will miss 'im." He broke into a laugh in which everybeast in the tent, except Mystic, started laughing with him. She knew that even though sacrificing one of their own won't rouse problems in the horde, but the Redwallers might do the unexpected.

The abbey dwellers at Redwall didn't have a last day of summer celebration, but a first day of autumn celebration. It was organized by Abbess Jen and the Skipper of otters. Skipper was quite partial to the fiddle and was playing it the whole day with almost no stop. He would sing some songs and just fiddle out a dance for others. It wasn't long before Skipper's nephew, Rogue, came up to play on his small drum. This was quickly followed by Skipper's niece, Ninny, coming up to play her tambourine. Skipper then played an old favorite that he could fiddle to, dance to, and sing to. He played an introduction, followed by his niece and nephew, then Skipper sang out in his deep bass voice.

"The sun is out and my soul feels free

As I play me fiddle dee diddle dee dee

You should strap that buckled around yer pants

'Cause they might fall as I show you my daaaaance!

You stomp your left foot, right foot, yer doing pretty good, now

Slap your rudder, or your tail if you would, now

Bow your head and fall to yer knees

Pay close attention 'cause you won't believe what you sees."

Skipper then started to play his fiddle at a fast pace while doing the fastest, most eye popping dance ever. At some points, it was hard to tell the difference between his legs and his rudder-like tail. Finishing his solo, he swiped his tail above the audience, knocking the hat off of a dibbun's head. It did a flip and landed nimbly on the Skipper's head. He gave a smile to the dibbuns who were cheering the loudest, except the one got his hat knocked off. Skipper than finished the last few versus of the song.

"That's my dance I've got to show

But I still got to do more things, y'know

It doesn't matter who's the best one

Just kick out yer legs and have some fun

Yer all doing great, even youse who are little

Listen to the music, listen to the fiddle

You shouldn't be sad at all for any reason

But 'ere's to an 'appy new season!"

Skipper than played one more solo, doing one more dance before ending the song and whipping his head so that the hat flew off his head and landed right onto the dibbun's head.

Jen, the mousemaid and abbess, approached Skipper clapping out loud. Skipper was exhausted after playing for hours and receiving many compliments, but decided to take Abbess Jen's.

"That was spectacular. I do believe you are the most musical Skipper of otters this abbey has ever seen!" she said. Skipper wiped sweat from his brow. He nodded his head and said, "Why thankee marm. Now if'n ye don't mind, I'm goin' to take a rest with ole Burny." The abbess looked slightly disappointed that Skipper wasn't going to attend the abbey games, but she knew that he wasn't going to play any because he was too tired.

"Oh, alright. Don't go to sleep. You might miss the feast," she said.

Skipper climbed up onto the wall and headed for, the gatekeeper Burny's, room. Burny was also the abbey recorder and also had the best vision than any mole. He and Skipper were close mates. They grew up in the abbey together and they go on plenty of adventures with each other as well. Burny was in his room taking a nap when Skipper came in. He plopped himself down into a chair and looked around. The room was silent except for Burny's snoring. With nothing better to do, Skipper took a crumpled up paper on Burny's desk and threw it at the sleeping mole. Upon impact, Burny gave a twitch and a grumble. He turned over just in time to get hit by another crumpled up paper ball. Burny turned onto his back and opened his eyes to see a paper ball flying right towards his face. Burny gave a yelp and put his paws over his face.

"Somebeast 'elp! Oi'm bein' attacked!" He yelled helplessly.

Skipper laughed and went to help him out of bed. "Wot are you doin' sleepin' the day away, eh? You've been missin' out on all the festivities," he said with a smile.

The mole started walking around. "Oi've been cleanin' an' organizin' an'- uh - more cleanin'. Getting rid of anythin' oi don'ts need," he said as he was picking up the crumpled up papers. "Oh!" Said Skipper. "Spring cleanin' on the first day of autumn? C'mon, Abbess an' I worked 'ard on makin' this a special day."

"Oh, alroight," Burny said. "Lemme just finish up 'ere."

Skipper shook his head with a smile on his face. He looked at some of the crumpled up papers. Most of them were pictures or letters made by dibbuns, but then he came across a paper that was in a hand too old to be a dibbun. It was a poem. Four lines and mysterious.

Beware Redwall, or chance kills

Hellgates and legends loom

Find what the top 2 say, or tis the end of your days

Kill not the white one, or else there be doom.

Skipper stared long and hard at the ominous poem. He wasn't sure what was it that made the poem interesting, but there was a sense of grave danger in it. He turned to his friend. "Er, uh. Burny? Who wrote this 'un? Right 'ere," He asked.

Burny took the paper and replyed, "Hurr, it probbly be a letter a dibbun wroiten to me. Hmm. I don't recall seein' this poem. Mebbe t'was...nope. Oi don'ts know."

Skipper took the piece of paper back, read it over again, and just had to ask again. "It's crumpled up, jus' like the other papers. You sure you ain't know whom this is?"

Burny just shook his head. "Oi'm tellin' ya. Oi has no clue whom it be." Skipper stared at Burny and back at the paper again.

"Lissen. Oi'm jus' aboot done 'ere. Oi'm goin' to the orchard to celebrate. Are ye comin'?" Burny asked politely.

Before Skipper could answer, Burny was already out the door. Skipper looked at the paper one more time before crumpling it up again and putting it into his vest pocket.

* * *

**A/N: **Personally, I didn't like this chapter too too much. And I'm not so good with making riddles. More characters to be introduced in the next chapters.

I also changed the rating because there will probably be one or two instances that might need the T rating.

Tips, advice, etc. is still welcome.


	4. Chapter 3

Abbess Jem was dancing to the beat of Rogue's small band. She had one of the happiest faces on while she went from dancing with one partner to dancing with another. One moment she was twirling a shrew, the next, she was along side Al, the cellarhog. She was doing several spins when she bumped into her best friend, Chell. Chell, being a hare, was quite an extraordinary dancer, and it became apparent when she accidentally knocked the abbess over.

"Oh! Excuse me!" Chell exclaimed. She assisted the Abbess up just as Rogue and his friends had become too tired to play anymore. Abbess Jem accepted Chell's paw up and decided to sit by the abbey pond. "Whew me. Autumn has barely started and already I can tell it's going to be a happy one," Abbess Jem said.

"Oh trust me. I believe yer absolutely right, marm." Skipper and Burny came to join the Abbess and Chell to the abbey pond. "Oh, Skipper, Burny. How nice of you to join us. This certainly is a pleasant start to autumn now, isn't it?" the Abbess exclaimed. "It sure is, wot," Chell answered. "Not like the last flippin' autumn where it rained, rained, and bally well rained some more."

Skipper replied, "Oh no, marm. Last h'autumn was terrible for the harvest. Too much rain and not enough sun. I'm certainly glad that the festivities of today were held on such a gorgeous day." The four friends sat by the pond and skimmed stones over the clear surface. Each trying to out throw each other turned the simple pleasure into competition.

"Burr oi, oi'm gonna skim yer off'en the face of the h'earth," said Burny after tossing a five jump stone. Skipper snorted, "Oh will ye, now? Just you watch this."

Combining strength and skill, Skipper hurled a stone across the lake. Unfortunatley, it only bounced four times, but each stride was about two or three spears-lengths long and the stone landed on the opposite bank. Skipper and the others stared dumbly at the stone. Suddenly, Burny burst out laughing. "Hurr hurr hurr! Oooh hoo hoo! Oi'm watchen an' oi bain't seein' winnin'. Ha ha haaa. That dun be impressive, though."

The other friends started laughing at Skipper who was still staring at the stone wondering how his lifelong practice of skimming stones could've turned out a little too good. Chell then started patting Skipper's back. "Ah, don't worry 'bout it, ole lad. Nobeast can be perfect at everythin'," she said.

As she patted his back, the paper that Skipper had found stumbled out of his vest pocket and rolled a little bit on the ground. Chell was the first to notice the paper. "'ello, wot's this?" she asked to nobeast in particular. Skipper's hypnotism towards the stone suddenly ceased as the haremaid picked up the crumpled up piece of paper. Skipper then placed his paw on Chell's. "Oh, that's just a piece of rubbish that I found in Burny's gatehouse," Skipper said.

"You'm been taken stuff out o' moi gatehouse widout moi permission?" Burny said strictly. Skipper replied, "You were goin' to throw it away. I figured you didn't need it no more."

Burny tried to think of a counter statement, but turned up empty. Chell was not paying attention to either of the two. She was busy reading the rhyme. "Wot the deuce is this?" she suddenly blurted out. "Is this some sort o' threat? Who wrote this, Burny? Why is it in your gatehouse? What is the 'White one'? I want to know wot's goin' on 'ere. It's bally well rude to keep secrets, you know, wot."

Abbess Jem then took the paper and read it to herself. She too was taken back by the message on it. It was small, yet a little concerning. She had to speak. "This poem sounds so weird when you read it. 'Beware, Redwall, or chance kills'? I don't know why, but that sounds a little ridiculous. Is it some sort of riddle?"

Burny then took the paper, completely forgetting his argument with Skipper. "Hmm. Foind the top two what? This be confusing. 'Kill not the whoite one?' Clouds are whoite, meadow cream be whoite, snow be whoite. This poem 'as too many poserbilities," he complained. Skipper took the paper and read it again. He then said, "It looks like a note of warning, but it has been inside the gatehouse for a while, I figure. Isn't it possible that the potential danger could've passed?" The Abbess was fired up and ready to go. "Well it's a riddle. I love riddles. Why don't we try to see what we can't see. Just the four of us."

The friends agreed and sat down again. Ignoring the merriness going on behind them, they studied the poem. They all tried to make light of the dreadful poem, but deep down, something was telling them that this little poem might be something big. Putting their heads together, they tried to figure out something. Suddenly, Burny stood up. "Oi'll be roight back," he said as he ran towards his gatehouse. The other three stared at each other. "I wonder where he's going," Chell asked. The other two shrugged and went back to studying the poem. Just then, Burny came running back with a piece of paper in one paw.

"Lookit dis," he said. "This wroitin' matches the paw of the one on the poem." Skipper wasn't impressed. "So wot's yer point?" he asked impatiently. Burny explained, "This be the paw of Martin the Warrior." This had caught the attention of all three. Skipper encouraged Burny to continue. "Go on, wot else?" he asked.

Burny straightened his glasses as he explained. "Martin the Warrior was not one to boi a-jokin' 'round. 'E 'as always given us warnings, an' signs, an' clues to keep us out of danger."

"Why can't 'e just tell us wot's goin' to happen rather than giving us ridiculous puzzles?" Chell interupted. That earned her a rap on the paw from Jem.

"As oi were sayin'," Burny continued. "If this were written boi Martin the Warrior, this shud not be ignored."

Skipper just had to cut in. "But Martin the Warrior died a long time ago. I mean many, many, many seasons ago. How could he have written somethin' that long ago that could still apply to today?" he asked.

"A dream?" Jem asked. The other three looked at her, their eyes beckoning for her to tell more. She continued, "We all know Martin's spirit still wanders Redwall and we've had several cases where a chosen creature would actually see Martin himself."

"But how did that note get written in 'is paw?" Skipper interrupted again.

"Well," Jem continued. "There have been times where Martin had taken control of one's body and...made...him...or her...do-" The Abbess slowed down as an answer dawned on her. She looked at Skipper. "You wrote that note!" she exclaimed.

"Wot?!?" Skipper bellowed. "I don' remember writin' no note!" The Abbess was so excited that she didn't realize Skipper's fear. "It had to be you! Martin's messages always appear to his recipient in a flash. You were the one who found the note even when Burny hadn't noticed it!" she exclaimed.

"But how come he hasn't given me any hints as to the meaning of this poem yet?" Skipper asked, finally giving in to the fact that he had been controlled by Martin. Jem thought about the question for a moment, then she found her answer. "It may be because Martin comes into your mind through your dreams. You have to be asleep in order for Martin to bear his presence. So for now, let us go inside. It's almost time for the feast."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Everybeast looked in the direction of the abbey. Burny then said, "That be Froyer Manny."

Inside the kitchen, there was a mess to behold. Friar Manny, a squirrel with a pretty thin gut for somebody who loves to eat, was kneeling in the middle of the kitchen and weeping like a dibbun. Cellar hog Al was the first to the site. "Great seasons! What's 'appened in 'ere?" Al yelled with a near crack in his voice. Friar Manny sniffled his nose. "It be those cursed dibbuns. They think my kitchen is a play area," he said. His mood suddenly changed to anger as he said, "they'll be glad to know that the feast tonight has been ruined!"

Abbess Jem and the other three then came into the kitchen. "Are you alright Manny?" Jem asked. The friar began weeping again. "The feast is ruined. Cartly and that mole, wotsisname, went through my kitchen like a storm. Days of preparation now gone to a failure." As Friar Manny continued his melodramatic sob story, Jem placed a comforting paw on his shoulder. "There now," she said. "We'll just delay the feast for two days. That's all."

"Delay the feast?" Manny sobbed out. "Won't that make the others mad at me?"

"Oh seasons, no," the Abbess replied. "Any late and unexpected guests can attend our feast, too if we hold it off for a while. Not to mention the other beasts outside are not ceasing activity. The feast would probably gone to waste if you had set it up now."

Manny sniffled. "Really?" he asked. The Abbess winked at him. "Really. Besides, the others will be delighted to know that they get to stop chores in two days for a great feast to a new autumn."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Mossflower woods. Log-a-Log Moosh was scrambling through the woods looking for survivors of the Guosim tribe. He had only been successful at finding more slain carcasses as he went further away from the attack site. As concern for his tribe grew, he now started forming a deep hatred towards Mallflag. Because of him and his unmerciful ways, his matey was now dead. He swore himself to slay Mallflag and his horde for their murderous performance. He continued going until he found the path. Scrambling to find his crew, he took off south towards Redwall where he assumed that the other Guosim shrews would go. He was half right. He could hear the familiar sounds of disputing and arguing off in the distance. Hurrying off in the direction of the sound, he found five of his tribe bickering as to head off to Redwall or not. Log-a-Log jumped for joy.

"Clarry!" he yelled. The one called Clarry looked back and noticed Log-a-Log Moosh running towards them. "Log-a-Log?" she asked, with a grin slowly forming on her face.

Log-a-Log tilted his head back and yelled, "Logalogalogalogalogalogalogalog!"

Clarry returned the call and ran into Log-a-Log Moosh's arms. "I thought you were slain." She sobbed to him. Log-a-Log had been friends with Clarry just as long as he had known Rinky. He comforted her with a warm hug. "Is this all who survived?" Log-a-Log asked her. Sniffling her nose, she nodded rapidly and continued to spill tears. Log-a-Log examined the remaining tribe. Three little ones, one male two female, a young male with a rapier, and Clarry. He felt a quiet rage fill him as he strengthened his curse on Mallflag. "So this is what you've done," Log-a-Log said to an imaginary Mallflag. "Now I'll make sure that you and your whole horde pay for every single life that you have ruined." Clarry noticed Log-a-Log's change of emotion. "What do we do now?" she asked him. A cold stare left Log-a-Log's eyes as it stared down the path.

"We go to Redwall."

* * *

**A/N: **I am working to improve my accents for various critters. 


	5. Chapter 4

Whitehide was sitting by his own fire half way through the afternoon. He had always secluded himself from the other vermin except in battle or when he had to. None of the others knew why he kept himself away. They don't know whether it's because he's different in that he's always white, or if he simply isn't social. Whatever the reason, the other vermin hated him. They gathered around a larger fire and gossiped about him. Longtail, the weasel, being the starter.

"Lookit 'im over dere. Moldy low-life. 'E never think 'bout us! 'E never think 'bout the 'ole 'orde!" The other vermin agreed. Longtail continued, "I remember the moment we found 'im I knew he wasn't going to be of any use to the group."

The group agreed again. Longtail was about to continue when Curst, the ferret, joined in the group.

"'Ello mates. What we talkin' about?" he asked oblivious to anything that was going on.

Longtail smiled a wicked grin and shoved playfully on Curst's shoulder.

"Jus' talkin' 'bout our 'orde," he said making gestures towards Whitehide. Curst looked over at the ermine and then back to the group. Curst was the youngest members of the horde. He was also the newest member and did not understand why there was so much hatred towards one of their own members. He finally gave up guessing why and just had to ask.

"Longtail, matey? Why do you and everybeast here hate Whitehide?" he asked. Longtail kept his wicked smile on as he explained, "I ain't much of a story teller, but here goes.

"We was explorin' the north lands looking for recruits for Mallflag's new horde. The group had consisted of Mallflag, me, and about a score of other beasts. We had been wandering the north for 'bout two seasons looking for anybeast that was cutthroat or cold-hearted enough to join our 'orde. I was 'bout...your age I s'pose. It t'was quite a while ago. We were gettin' ready to head south when we heard somebeast whimpering. I was the first one to hear it. I alerted Mallflag and 'e 'ad us search for that voice. Then I found 'im. The ermine scarcely two seasons old. We thought 'e was a normal stoat at first, but we realized that it was blood coverin' 'im. Where the blood came from, we don't know an' we'll never know. Well, we certainly din't know 'is name, so we 'ad to rename 'im. After washing off the blood, Mallflag named 'im Whitehide as a joke because ermine only turn white for one season, right? Wrong. At least not this one. 'E was in the care of one of our stoats, Marru. She was an alright mother. He would only speak to her once 'e'd learned. As 'e grew older, he became more an' more - what's the word - headstrong. 'E glares at those who 'e 'ates an' even got into fights wit' others. 'E 'as 'ad a fight with nearly everybeast in this 'orde 'cept for Mallflag an' you. Well, because you 'aven't been 'ere long enough to get on 'is bad side. But you don't want to get into a fight wit' 'im. The only time 'e'll stop is when 'is mother told 'im to. An' now 'is mother is dead. As dead as the dozen or so of us who were too late for 'is mummy to come to the rescue."

That caused Curst to gulp. He couldn't resist asking. "Is there anybeast on 'is good side?" he asked a little nervously.

Longtail shook his head. "Right now, we're all on 'is good side. As for mates. 'E's never 'ad any and never will." Curst took a look over at Whitehide. The ermine actually took a look over at the young ferret. Curst thought that he had an opportunity to befriend the ermine, so he gave him a smile. Whitehide responded with the lift of an eyebrow and a piercing scowl. Curst instantly looked away as he saw the hatred on the ermine's features. Longtail shook his head and laughed.

"Y' see wot I mean?" He asked. "I don't blame yew, though, mate. You'd be the safest member of our 'orde if you became friends wid that 'un," Longtail said. He put his paw on Curst's shoulder and shook him playfully. "Let's hear it for my matey 'ere!" he yelled. The whole group cheered as Curst, still bewildered, laughed a little nervously. Longtail then shoved a drink into the young ferret's paws. "So wot's yer story, mate?" Longtail asked.

"Well," began Curst, a little embarrassed. "Me brother said that when I was born, me mother kept on yelling 'I'm cursed! I'm cursed!'"

Longtail nodded. "Aye. And wot were yer brother's name?" he asked.

"Me brother? 'Is name was Abomination," Curst explained.

"Oh," said Longtail with a slightly disturbed look on his face. "And uh, why did you join Mallflag's army?"

Curst then replied, "I joined 'cause me parents din't want me, and kicked me out. But who needs dem? I got pals here, right?"

Longtail gave a nod. "Aye, matey. That yew do." Longtail really wasn't friends with Curst, but he didn't want Whitehide to have any friends. If that happened, then any fight between Whitehide would be more dangerous if he had a sidekick. Even if it was a runt like Curst. Longtail hated Whitehide so much, he is willing to work hard to keep everything away from him.

Cherkee, the weasel, is the second youngest member of Mallflag's horde. He is useless in the art of weapons, but has the unusual, and often looked-down-upon, talent of writing. He's what Mallflag calls the horde recorder. It is Mallflag's goal to become the most feared villain in all the land. He knew that any decent creature can read, and with the help of Cherkee, word can spread quicker and will be saved forever. He was busy writing a new article for the horde:

_The horde has been marching southeast ever since we had left the highlands._

_Though I was not a member of the army at the time, I heard it was brutal and perilous. As said in previous recordings, strong, white weather and little food. About half a dozen didn't make it out alive. Enough about our distant history, though. Two nights ago, we stormed a tribe of shrews. The operation was a success with only two or so survivors. Our captain now has plans to take hold of this new-found place called Redwall Abbey. Judging by the name, it can't be much in the line of militia. I've also heard that it consists of peace loving creatures, though rumor has it that they are warriors. Most of the horde doesn't believe it, though. Captain Mallflag hasn't unveiled his plans of siege yet, but I'll be there to document. In other news, we lost one of our horde members. Marru tried to double-cross our horde. She payed with her life becau-_

The next thing Cherkee knew, Mallflag's paw was wrapped around the weasel's long neck and he was being lifted off of the ground. Mallflag then whispered into Cherkee's ear, "You are to exclude that last part about the traitorous stoat. Is that clear?" Cherkee hated to undo what he wrote, but he knew it'd be a stupid thing to die for. He gave a gurgle and a nod before Mallflag let him go and let him continue his writing. Cherkee massaged his neck with his left paw while writing with his right.

_...but I'll be there to document._

_C.K., recorder of Mallflag's army_

Whitehide was sitting alone and by himself. He was thinking, or at least, his mind was slowly exiting reality and going deep into his own thoughts. It wasn't long before he was not there anymore. His body still remained by the fireside, but his mind was now in a field. It was calm and quiet. No sounds at all except a gentle breeze that kept the grass swaying in his direction. He was safe. Safe from harm, ridicule, and away from those he hated. He was neither happy, nor was he upset. It was difficult for him to describe how he felt, other than safe. But the peace...oh, the tranquility of nobeast being around to look down upon you or make you an outcast to the only group you've ever known.

Suddenly, he saw a structure. Off in the distance was a red building. It looked like a castle of some sort, or an abbey. Curious, he started walking towards it. Slowly and unobstructed, he made his way over, looking in awe as the place grew bigger and bigger until he was near the large and flawless gates.

On his last few steps, the sunny field turned to night. Everything was jet black except for the lights coming from within this strange and magnificent building. He looked up at the huge doors and merely pushed it open. Inside the walls of the abbey was equally significant as outside. Battlements, orchards, and a pond. He noticed that everything kept on turning completely black every now and then. Whenever this happened, there is no sound or sight of anything. It's almost as if he becomes blind for a second. He continued his walk through the abbey field until he reached the doors of what seemed to be the entrance to the building. He pushed the doors open revealing a banquet hall where several good beasts were feasting upon the most delicious smelling food he's ever smelled. Nobeast even bothered to look at him as they too turned to blackness at random times.

He made his way through the room, glancing around at the merriness of everybeast. The ermine almost even smiled as very young creatures ran around throwing pudding at each other. He continued the stroll until he reached a wall holding a sword. The sword was candy for the ermine's eyes. Shining, beautiful steel that from a distance looked perfectly balanced. He put his paw close to it and felt a fierce field of energy. It was invisible, but he could tell something was there. He then looked up at a large tapestry. On it was the handsome figure of a mouse with the very sword on display. He was smiling and various villains fled from the outstanding figure. The ermine started to admire the figure, noting how this one picture can have violence and gentleness all in one same setting. It was impossible for the ermine to tell whether it was fear he felt or awe. Suddenly, his head started hurting. Whitehide clutched his head as the blackouts became more and more frequent. Still holding his head, he ran past the still smiling simple folk, out the door, and into the field.

He was about half way to the main gates when the sun suddenly came up. He stopped and looked at the sky. The sky was as sunny as when he first started dreaming. He began to run again. Then, like a collage of evil, the sun melted out of the sky and turned into deep, dark clouds. Thunder rumbled followed by lighting as what was left of the sun sank down into the west. It started raining as the ermine then stopped in front of the doors to the abbey. To the left, he noticed a large plank. Looking from the plank to the doors, more and more blackouts started occurring. Images of the plank, the gates, lightning, the blackness, and the mouse on the tapestry flashed before his eyes. Rapidly increasing speed. Thunder crashed at a deafening roar that made the ermine flinch. It was as if this once impressive dream turned into a torturing nightmare. Whitehide was about to scream when suddenly, it all went silent. He was in complete blackness and could see nothing but himself. Suddenly, the tapestry, in a way, floated towards him. He couldn't take his eyes off of the mouse. A mix of fear and admiration filled him as the sight remained. The mouse's head on the picture then began turning. Slowly at first, but then it became apparent when the ermine noticed the mouse staring face to face with him. An eerie silence followed as the breathless ermine heard out one word spoken out in one spine tingling fashion.

"Blizzard," it said.

"YOOOOOOOOHHHHHWWWW!!!"

Whitehide woke up suddenly to realize that he had placed his paw into the hot ashes of his fire.

After his yell came a number of, "Shaddup!" "Go back to sleep, Whitey!" "Wot was dat?""Don't you know when to be quiet you worthless piece of - " and other complaints. Whitehide breathed hard as he tried to recall what had happened. It felt like he was out for about an hour, but it was well into the night. Night. He recalled it being night in his dream, but he was never at his personal field at night. What had happened? He remembered walking. Where was he walking to? Something big? Suddenly he got it.

"I gotta tell Captain," he whispered to himself, still panting. Then he yelled louder, "Captain, I've got somethin' fer you!"

* * *

**A/N: **That's right, I'm a weasel. Call me whatever you like, but I think that all the species of vermin are really cool. Foxes, awesome. Weasels, stoats/ermine, ferrets; love 'em. Rats, I think they rock. Etc. Yes, the creatures on the good side are cool, but I can't imagine being any of them for some reason. But all animals, IMO are awesome. That's the kind of talk you get from a tree-hugger.

The chapter...I think this is my best chapter so far. Tips and suggestions (as always) are always welcome.


End file.
